


Sleep Song

by TeddyRadiator



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyRadiator/pseuds/TeddyRadiator
Summary: A fluffy one-shot smut fest. For Mimimanderly - this story contains explicit sexual content
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 6
Kudos: 126





	Sleep Song

_Sleep a little, a little sleep, you to whom I give my love, you need not fear the least, I will watch over you,_

_The blackbird’s voice will betray his coming, his heart is so cold in grief  
I will watch over you,_

_Far away there’s a linnet singing, her fear makes her loathe to sleep  
Listen, a stag in the east is calling, his thoughts will not turn to sleep  
Parting the two of us is as the parting of children from one home  
Parting the two of us is as the parting of body from soul_

Severus rolled over in his bed, and uttered a heartfelt, unsatisfying, “Shit.” He turned his pillow over, hoping the cool side would soothe his fevered thoughts, but it only brought her to mind.

“ _Tempus_ ,” he whispered in the dark. _2:36_. He groaned in frustration. He desperately needed sleep, but he was no closer to the embrace of Morpheus than when he laid down three hours earlier. In another three hours, he would have to rise, whether he wanted to or not, and prepare himself for the day.

Once again, he rolled over, onto his left side, toward her side of the bed. Empty. He’d been so proud when she was chosen as the keynote speaker at the Worldwide Transfiguration Consortium in Australia, and had seen her off on Monday, with a kiss and the exacted promise of a very special welcome home celebration on Saturday. Two nights from now.

Monday night had been fairly lonely, but he’d been so tired from his duties that he’d barely beat his own exhaustion to bed. Last night, he had been restless, even after two generous firewhiskys. Tonight had been one of the worst bouts of insomnia he’d had since his days as a spy. Two more nights of this would send him in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s, drooling into his soup and trading chocolate frog cards with Gilderoy Lockhart. He had to sleep, and he had to face facts that he could no longer sleep without his wife in his bed.

Oh, he missed his little witch. His little swot, his little succubus. He missed her constant fussing over his health, even though he pretended it irritated him to be coddled. He knew he fooled no one, but he felt an irrationally stupid need to keep up appearances. He missed her constant, loving presence at the Head Table in the Great Hall of an evening, especially after a particularly difficult day. Being the Headmaster of the world’s most prestigious school of Witchcraft and Wizardry was an exalted and coveted position, but it was a right pain in the arse most of the time. His Hermione negated all that.

Gods, he would never make it until Saturday at this rate. Severus sighed again and pictured his witch, her long, unruly hair, curling around him, even in his sleep. What he wouldn’t give for just one strand to find its insidious way up his nostril, tickling him awake, lulling him back to sleep.

He missed her saucy, heart-shaped bottom, which fit snugly against his crotch as he spooned against her. He missed her warm, soft breasts that fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. He missed the sweet, cooing noise she made when he slipped his long fingers into the waistband of her lacy knickers and found the warm, wet centre of her…

Severus could feel his cock growing, with each passing thought about Hermione and those things about her that gave him pleasure and he pleasured in return. In the long, deep darkness of the night, Severus imagined his wife, watching him.

Severus had done his fair share of wanking in his adult life, but being married to Hermione all but negated the immediate need for such mundane tasks. Now, thinking of her, imagining her there, watching him, filled Severus with a desire so powerful and needy that his cock roared to life, and he could see it tenting underneath the bedclothes.

Slowly, he pushed down the sheet from his chest, enjoying the feel of the fine cotton sliding down his naked, poised flesh. He wanted to take his time, to imagine what Hermione would enjoy watching him do.

He stretched suddenly, allowing his long, lean body to release the tension of his restlessness, and he placed his hands on his face, pretending they were _her_ hands, stroking his forehead, the planes of his cheekbones, until his fingers brushed over his mouth, and he drew his middle finger into his mouth with slow, sensuous pleasure, sweeping across his lips with his moistened finger, caressing the pad with his tongue.

His hand slid across his throat, and his finger, still wet from his willing mouth, sought and found his left nipple, and flicked it to a hard peak. He played with it, scratching the tip with his fingernail, a slow smile playing about his lips.

His nipples had always been sensitive, and he plucked them, just as he would Hermione’s, playing with the hard peaks, pinching, licking his fingers to renew their wet, teasing sweet torment. He envisioned Hermione, her pert mouth biting at his nipples, her tongue flicking them to hard, almost painful peaks.

“Yesss, oh that’s it, my girl,” he crooned, as his hands slid down his pale, flat belly, his fingertips lightly tickling his skin, causing goosebumps to pebble his flesh. “Oh, yes, witch, touch me…you know what I want…”

His hands ghosted down his torso, lightly skimming, making his skin ultrasensitive, trembling. He pushed the sheet lower, until his rigid cock was exposed to the cool air of their bedchambers. He smiled. Hermione loved his cock. He remembered the first night they spent together, when she had finished unbuttoning each of his innumerable buttons, revealing it. She’d sighed, and looked up at him from her position, on her knees, and he’d almost come at the heat glowing in her eyes. And when she’d taken him in her mouth…

He moaned as his long fingers wrapped around his cock, and he imagined her, kneeling on the bed, parting his thighs. She got very bossy when she was on top. “Spread your legs, Severus.”

“Yes,” he moaned out loud, parting his thighs, spreading them wide for her, so she could see his body, opened to her. Yes, she was bossy, until she knelt between his legs. Then she was as docile as a lamb, and he loved it. “Take me in your mouth, oh, yes, that’s it.”

His long, slender fingers slowly wrapped around the base of his shaft. He savoured the long familiar expertise of his own firm touch. When was the last time he’d actually needed to masturbate? His hand, knowing and warm, slid over his hardened flesh, as he had taught her.

He could feel her soft breath against the head of his cock. He cupped his balls in his hand, cradling them. She loved to caress his sac; she said it felt like a velvet pouch. He laughed at her, but trailing his fingers across the rapidly tightening flesh, he understood. Oh, he understood…

He gave himself a deep, hard stroke, the first real pull that always meant business. The sensation of his hand twisting over his own cock settled in his arousal like fire and honey, and he knew there would be no turning back; this would have to go to its logical completion.

“Suck it, little one. Suck it _hard_ ,” he moaned, seeing her in his mind’s eye, grabbing him with both hands, moaning as she fucked him with her talented mouth. She was good at it, oh fuck yes, and she did it like she loved it. By now, he would have his hands buried in her wild mane, his feet planted on the bed, levering up into her mouth, and he pumped hard, feeling the beads of pre-cum lubricating his strong hand. He gently squeezed his balls, and felt them draw up tight; he was so close.

“Oh, let me come, pet,” he growled. “Tell me I can come.”

“Come for me, Severus.”

His eyes flew open, to see Hermione crouched at the foot of the bed, watching him raptly. Her clothes were travel-worn and she looked exhausted. She looked glorious.

“Keep stroking yourself. Do it!” she commanded, her voice low and husky, and he fell back against the bed, trembling, on the verge. When she used that tone of voice, he would do anything she asked…

He was pistoning his hand over his cock now, so close he could feel it blooming behind his balls, readying itself.

And then she took him in her mouth. Severus exploded; his back arched from the bed, and he bellowed her name into the room, and all his sleepless nights and loneliness and _missing her_ roared out of him from his cock into her waiting mouth, and he fell back, dazed and confused.

He tried to pull her to him, but sleep descended upon him like a fallen angel, and he was out of the blue and into the black before he could even call out to her…

The inner alarm that had served Severus most of his life woke him with a start. It was just after six in the morning; and as he struggled to claw to the surface of consciousness, he remembered last night and his eyes flew open.

He was alone. He jumped out of bed and raced into the loo; no one was there. He looked around and called out her name, but not so loud people might get the idea that he was losing his marbles.

“It couldn’t have been a dream,” he muttered, crestfallen. She had been there – he had felt her mouth on him – heard her command him to touch himself!

Despondently, he joined the staff in the Great Hall for breakfast, but found he had little appetite. As he sat, morosely munching on a piece of toast, the owls flew in for morning mail, and a small package landed in his oatmeal.

Wondering for the millionth time why they could never find a work-round for owls, Severus fished out the package. It was marked with several Wizarding stamps from Australia, and he calmed somewhat after recognising Hermione’s handwriting.

The letter said,

_Hello love,_

_I just had to write you, even though I’ll be home in a couple of days. I miss you more than I can say. I can’t tell you how lonely I’ve been, and how I’ve longed for your voice. Nights are the worst._

_I had the strangest dream last night about you. I walked into our bedroom, and you were, well, let’s just say you were ‘giving yourself a hand’ at a situation. (wink, wink!)_

_I was so aroused, watching you touching yourself, that I started touching you as well, and you were so amazing when you reached your peak (yes, I know I’m sounding really prim but I don’t know who might glance over your shoulder) that I woke up right in the middle of my own ‘peak’._

_I just couldn’t get it out of my mind; it seemed so real. Then yesterday, our host at the Conference told me that the Wizarding Daintree tea has the most amazing magical properties, such as being able to Dream Travel. It certainly made me wonder if something similar had happened on my end._

_I have enclosed a packet of the tea, just in case you’d like to see if we could do a little tandem dreaming. According to my host Sabra, it doesn’t matter that we aren’t dreaming at the same time, just that we are connected. Imagine what mischief we might get up to 😉_

_Can’t wait to see you on Saturday._

_All my love,_

_Hermione_

Severus looked into the package and pulled out the innocuous looking packet of tea. He smiled, and several Hufflepuffs choked on their Pumpkin Juice.

He called for a house elf. “A pot of boiling water, please.”


End file.
